Sherlock's visit
by FlowerofDawn96
Summary: BBC Sherlock Holmes's side of the end of the Reichenbach Fall episode.


Why had it come to this? He simply didn't understand. The one time he was truly able to make one friend and see that people other than his brother cared for him, he was forced to push them all away in the worst manner thinkable to a kind heart.

It had been about a month now since Sherlock had left his flat in 221B, and it still felt strange not to wake up to the sound of his phone ringing with texts about the latest case which the yard had yet to solve. He was so bored, but knew he was to keep quiet and follow Mycroft's instructions on how to live his temporary life while the government sorted things out back home.

After a week of straight rain, the sun poured beautifully onto the world outside, taking the melancholy glow away for the time being. Out of pure curiosity, he decided he would take a trip down to Baker Street, with a disguise of sorts of course. Sherlock slipped on a blond wig he'd acquired, blue jeans, purple sweater, and a simple blue hoodie to wear over it. He felt ridiculous, but it was worth not being caught. The cab ride was fairly short, or at least it seemed so what with the tension in the air only he could.

Paying the man, Sherlock stepped out of the vehicle and stared up at his old room. No shapes or shadow moved, he suspected its inhabitants were off on their daily activities. Before advancing, the raven haired man stood in the spot he so often stood before, usually with John or Lestrade. His hand ventured into a small pocket, drawing out the key to the rooms. The detective's hand shook a faintly, almost fearing one of his friends other than Molly would walk in and find him. This was not the case though, thankfully, for the flat was completely empty. Completely empty….. His science equipment…..the paintings on the wall…. The spray paint behind his chair…It was as if he had never existed. The only remaining evidence of his being was the violin case I the corner. Looking around, it was obvious John still lived here and tried living a normal life again. A laptop still sat on the table by the window, open to the familiar blog which held all of his adventures over the last year or so. But it was the last one that really got to him, it said but one sentence. He was my best friend and I will always believe in him. So he hadn't taken his word and told everyone Sherlock was a fake, part of him felt joy, but sorrow at the same time, he was going to miss this room. Not wanting to see anymore, Sherlock made his way down the stairs for what would be the last time for a long while. A thought stopped him for a moment, in spite of his brother's orders, Sherlock picked up his instrument and decided he would take it with him; no one would notice it was gone.

Footsteps shocked him to be still on the second set of steps. He heard voices and stopped to listen, picking out only some of the conversation. Sherlock had heard them far too much not to recognize them.

"You really meet her John; it would do you good to have some fun again."

"Mrs. Hudson, that's really nice of you, but I'm just not ready. I would only depress or disappoint her."

"Trust me; Mary is a sweet and energetic girl. You would have no time to feel down around her"

Sherlock dashed into one of the empty rooms as they passed by, careful not to give himself away.

"Fine, I will meet her in a few days, but not today. I just want to say goodbye one last time"

"Alright dear, I'll be own in a half hour to go with you"

The detective shot out the door as soon as he knew for sure John and Mrs. Hudson were on the top floor, cringing when he heard that he had accidentally slammed the door behind him.

Above, in 221B, John set down his groceries to pull out his key, only to find the door already ajar. He pushed it open and jumped when loud sound startled him, the sound of the door closing loudly below. Was someone in here with them? He shook it off and continued on. Upon walking into the room, he put away the things that were set in the plastic bags and sat down I front of the laptop. Not able to think clearly at the message written by himself, he looked around for a moment. The flat really was dusty and needed to be cleaned again, he would do it later. His eyes scanned around for what was most dusty, just wanting to put his mind on something else, when a particular spot that normally was the worst, was clear of the gray layering. John froze, that was where Sherlock's violin always lay. He asked if she had taken the liberty in removing it, but she claimed not to have there at all today. He wondered if ghosts existed.

A half hour later, Sherlock stood at his grave, looking around. He knew perfectly well what John meant by one last goodbye. A black car rode by and he walked swiftly behind a group of thick trees. The look on his friends' faces caused him to raise an eyebrow as the two approached the black stone. He stood by as John spoke, his voice breaking constantly after left him alone. Sherlock hadn't expected them to be so affected by his absence. It almost confused him, John's words were so sincere, and he could have sworn his former landlady had broken down just before she left.

"Don't be dead" Sherlock heard him say, if only he knew, he thought.

This was already proving to be the longest time away from somewhere he would ever have to endeavor. Sherlock walked back from that sight halfway back to his flat before catching a cab again. He heard John's haunting words over and over again. That night he stayed up late through the night, playing his sweet, well aware his neighbors were probably annoyed but he did not care. At three in the morning Sherlock finally slept like a normal human being. A long, restless sleep, his only goal now was to wait. And that was how it would be for the next three years or so, normal…mundane… and painfully boring…..


End file.
